Let it Burn
by spoops
Summary: Katniss is killed in the 74th Hunger Games. Peeta is crowned Victor, after killing Cato. Meanwhile, Prim struggles to survive Katniss' death. She learns to survive for herself and hunt, and realizes that animals aren't the only quarry available to her. She volunteers in the 79th Hunger Games, and seeks revenge for her sister's death. Please review!
1. Prologue

When I saw Katniss die on the TV screen in the 74th Games, it was surreal. It was like I was watching another person... another person that wasn't my sister, die at the hands of the boy named Cato. I watched as her blood spurted out from the grisly second smile he had carved into her neck, my eyes wide and unblinking. I watched as Peeta charged Cato, and ran him through with a sword just a second too late. Two cannons fired, and one of them was for my sweet, strong sister.

I remember my mother reaching across the table for me, her hands shaky and cold as they wrapped around me, and everything sank in. My sister was dead, and Peeta was the one lone victor of the 74th Games.

The first few months without Katniss had been the hardest. I cried myself silly until I had no tears left to give. The Capitol had ripped the most important person out of my life, the one person that risked everything for me. She promised me she would try, but the Capitol's influence was too strong. They wanted her dead, and it was only a matter of time. What they had been unsuccessful in doing, Cato did for them, only to be killed by Peeta seconds later.

He came home, and Katniss didn't.

I think he must have really loved her, because every week, he stopped by and gave a share of his earnings as victor to my mother. I wouldn't take them; I was angry at him for living when Katniss died. If he truly loved her, he would have saved her, and brought her back to me like they were supposed to. The rules had been amended, hadn't they?

My mother took the money, though. I'm sure without it, we would have starved. Even with Gale's help, we hardly had enough on the table to keep us from becoming corpses ourselves. I couldn't hunt, I couldn't bring myself to go into the woods and gather the fruit that blossomed on the bushes. I didn't want to walk those same steps, in those boots that Katniss left behind for me. I was expecting her to walk in through the door at any moment, a rabbit slung over her shoulder with a smile on her face as she laid eyes on me. That never happened, as much as I wished it would. Katniss was dead, and there was no getting her back.

It took me a while to realize who was truly at fault. A few months had gone by since her passing, and I had failed to do anything but weep and feel sorry for myself, for the loss of my sister and the hole it left in my heart. It was one day, when I was sitting in class, feeling my stomach eat itself, that the answer came to me. The Capitol was at fault. Not just the Capitol, but namely, President Snow.

Things got easier when I had someone to hate. I devoted most of my time to hating President Snow, and thinking of different ways to tear him down. The pain of Katniss' absence quelled when I thought of putting one of her arrows through his eye.

The next day, I waited for Gale outside the entrance to the mines. He'd been forced back into work, which left almost no time to see him elsewhere. He'd taken double shifts in the mines when Katniss died, and I'd hardly seen any of him, except when he'd dropped off the occasional haul of meat from hunts. Even someone as strong as Gale needed to grieve, and for Gale, it had largely been spent chipping away at the stone and dirt underneath the ground. At least down there, no one would notice his sorrow.

It was around nine o'clock when he surfaced. The sky was already black and dotted with stars, and what little light we had was used to light up the way out of the mines. I stood out in the dark, the light of the moon catching on my hair. It didn't take long for Gale to surface, or for him to recognize me and walk over cautiously.

"Prim?" He asked, getting close to me, squinting at me through the smears of coal dust on his face.

"I don't have a lot of time," I started, "my mother's expecting me home soon. I want you to teach me to hunt."

Gale had enough sense not to laugh. "Why?" He asked, suspicious.

"I can't keep doing this; I can't keep leeching from you and Peeta. I need to learn. I need to.. to be my own provider."

I saw his expression change from suspicion to confusion. "Katniss said you weren't any good when she tried to teach you."

"I can change. I _will_ change. Give me a chance."

"I don't know, Prim..." Gale began, rubbing a grimy hand over the back of his neck. "It's dangerous out in the woods."

"And it's dangerous in the mines, too, but you still go down there every day." I protested, keeping my features as stony as I could.

Gale's expression softened, then. "I guess. But you're only a kid.."

"I can't afford to be a kid anymore." I said. And it was true.

Then, for the first time in weeks, I saw Gale's grief flicker across his face as he contemplated my words. "Alright. We'll start this weekend. I'll come get you in the morning on Saturday. Now get going, before your mother comes looking for you."

At first, I hadn't been an easy pupil for Gale. I was loud, tromping through the woods in boots that I got lost in, and a coat that smothered me. Katniss' bow was awkward and heavy in my hand, and the quiver of arrows was too long for my back. I was equally helpless at finding prey as I was at shooting it down, but as the weeks went by, Gale's teaching started to sink in. My persistence hadn't waned, and I was showing improvement. Within the first two years, I had managed to become a decent enough hunter to get our family back on our feet. We ate as good as ever, possibly even better with the addition of Peeta's money buying us a few things here and there.

It was no secret that Gale had feelings for Katniss, and even though hunting had been something he had done exclusively with her, he let me in to his world, showing me the ins and outs of the forest beyond the fence. It was easy with Gale, learning from him and hunting with him, once he showed me how. I don't think he ever saw anything in me like he did in Katniss, because within four years, he'd fallen into a relationship with the Mayor's daughter, Madge.

Our hunts became less frequent after they got engaged. They stopped altogether when they got married. It seemed easy for him to move on after he found solace in Madge's presence. He loved Katniss, I knew that to be the truth, but he learned to love again, and the pain of Katniss' passing waned for him.

It only got worse for me.

I didn't have anyone to love. Gale had Madge, and even my mother found a boyfriend (the Butcher) who she insisted was only a friend.

I spent a lot of my time alone in the woods, honing my skills, constantly bettering myself for the chance to get near enough to President Snow to put an arrow through his skull. I waited until I was almost eighteen, carefully formulating a plan that was more risky than anything else. I didn't care who I hurt in the process; I was going to volunteer for the Games and get at him that way.

The thought had been brewing ever since that day that I realized Snow was to blame. I wanted him to feel the pain of having everything he loved ripped away from him, like I felt when Katniss was ripped away from me... and as much as he probably would hate to admit it, the Districts were in unrest. There were whispers here and there, mostly traded in the Hob. Talk of rebellion had died down since the 74th Games, but after Rue's death, and Katniss' tribute to her, things hadn't been the same. I could see change everywhere within the first year, which had gone cold until late. Grain became difficult to get, along with a few other things like wax and rope. Trading at the Hob had taught me to look out for things like that, and it was hard not to notice the influx in price for goods in short supply.

I was going to fan those flickers of hope until they caught on, and if I died in the process, at least I would die trying.


	2. Chapter 1

It's early morning. The day dawns bright and early as usual and there's no time to rest; even if I could get a good night's sleep these days, I doubt I'd be able to stay in bed any longer. It's become habit for me now, getting out of bed at the crack of dawn, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and changing into the clothing that once belonged to my sister.

It's been five years since she passed away. Five long years without Katniss, and I thought I'd never make it a week without her by my side. I guess that just goes to show how much things can change, and will change, when they're forced to. I never used to be like this, thinking toxic thoughts about strangling the life out of President Snow's throat. Now, I think about it daily. I think about putting my arrow through his heart, through his eye, through a lung... through anything that would kill him. It's become my happiness, thinking about President Snow begging for mercy. Today, I will be embarking on a quest to turn that dream into reality. I am going to volunteer for the Games.

I dress myself in Katniss' old clothes. Her pants have grown to fit me now; I've had a considerable growth spurt in the last year. I grew three inches and gained a little bit of weight, and earned myself a few new scars. My mother doesn't seem to notice, or if she does, she doesn't care that I'm putting myself in harm's way. She's already lost one daughter, so what's another one gone? Soon, I'll be in the Capitol anyway, and I'll probably be put to death for killing Snow. I don't care. As long as I get my arrow into that man, my life will have meaning again. My mother has the Butcher's company, which she seems to enjoy. More often than not, I'm eating supper on my own as he steals my mother away from me. This morning, she's not even at home. She's taken to spending nights at his house, where I'm sure the food is better and the fire is warmer. Once or twice, I've been invited over, too, but I always decline. I don't want to eat his food or sleep in a soft bed. I want to sit at the table where Katniss did, and eat the food that she would, and sleep in the hard bed that we shared.

It's lonely this early in the morning, but I don't focus on that. Loneliness is something that I know all too well these days. Everyone's left me. First, it was Katniss. Then it was my mother, and then Gale. Now, the only person that pays me a visit every now again is Peeta. He drops off bread in exchange for some of my game, but that's as far as the meetings go. His time is limited this time of year, anyway. He's always off preparing for the Games, because it's his duty as the most recent victor of the Games to coach the tributes. I don't think it ever sat well with Peeta how he was pulled back to the Capitol, year after year. He seemed disturbed after every Game that passed, always coming back from the Capitol looking worse for wear. I chalked it up to the fact that for five years, his tributes had all died. None of them were smart enough or skilled enough to make it to the end. This year, I'm going to change that, though. I'm going to win the Games.. and when I do, I'm going to get as close to Snow as I can with a bow in my hand, and an arrow nocked on the string. I'm going to draw the string back, and take a breath, and let the arrow fly.

A chill goes up my back as I imagine killing Snow for the hundred thousandth time. It's satisfying, thinking about watching the life drain from him. My hands reach out for my inherited game bag, and I tuck it under my belt, wringing it for good measure, pretending it's Snow's pasty white throat.

Once I'm finished dressing, I make my way to the fence, checking it for its electric hum. Thankfully, Snow is stupid enough to leave the security lax in District 12. Still, I have to check it every time, especially on Reaping day.

It isn't live; I slide underneath it, and make my way into the woods.

Even at such an early hour, there is life bursting forward, touching every part of the woods. Last night's rain has sprinkled over everything, illuminating the forest with beautiful shades of red, orange and pink. The droplets catch the rays and scatter it amongst the greenery, bringing the forest to light. It's refreshed the forest, and the ground beneath my feet is springy, absorbing my movements like I weigh nothing at all.

I breathe in the fresh air, and take my time to relish in the moment. How many times had Katniss done the same? I couldn't say. All I know is that she was only ever really happy when she was in the forest, or when she was with me.

Thinking about Katniss makes my chest ache dully. I put the thought aside and get to walking. Once I have a bow in my hand and a quiver of arrows on my back, I'll forget about why I'm here, even if it is only briefly.

I make good time getting to where I've stashed my bow and arrows. The tree that holds them is the same tree that Katniss kept them in, and it was a good enough hiding spot to keep. Gale's bow and quiver are in the tree, too, although they've remained largely untouched. He doesn't hunt with me anymore, and whenever I see the bow moved from its spot, it's unusual. Madge's family has enough money to sustain both Gale and Madge, and whatever children they decide to have.

I'm never going to have kids. I did want them, at one point... but that was so long ago I almost don't remember why I wanted them. I guess I thought I'd end up with a handsome boy who'd love and cherish me. I was deluded to think that would ever happen. The more I think about it, Katniss had the right ideas about everything. Hunting, and family. Those were the only important things.

Maybe if things had gone differently, if Katniss hadn't died, and she had come back to me, I would have continued to look at the world with stars in my eyes. She kept them there for me, and it was hard to see the world as it was when she died. The stars crumbled and fell along with the tears, and I saw that I had been living in a dream, with the real world on the other side of Katniss' shields. When she died, they dropped, and I saw things as they were. Horrible, hopeless, and hellish.

I was forced to grow up too fast, as she had, and it was hard to swallow life without her... but I survived. At least, I have, until now. After today, I'm not certain how things will pan out, but I'm determined to rip Snow to shreds.

I take a walk through the forest, letting the sounds wash over me. Mockingjays chirrup in the distance, echoing the calls of the other birds that tweet sweetly, heralding the sunrise and the dawn of a new day. They used to make me smile, although nowadays, they just remind me of Katniss and how she used to sing to them. I don't hesitate to shoot them down on sight. They taste like chicken, and I won't turn my nose away at that meat.

A couple hours into my hunt, I've got a rabbit in my bag, along with a squirrel. The squirrel will go to Peeta's father, but the rabbit will be my breakfast, and whatever's left on the carcass will go to Buttercup. Since Katniss' death, he strayed into the forest, and comes back only if I have food for him. He's cordial at best with me now, but I don't really care. Katniss thought he was just a stupid cat, and he is. A stupid cat that's more trouble than he's worth.

I get back home around ten o'clock. I've dropped the squirrel off to Peeta's father, and I've already unloaded my rabbit, skinned it and traded the pelt for some vegetables. I make a quick stew, and by noon, it's ready to eat. It's warm, with chunks of potato and carrot mixed in with the rabbit, making a delicious concoction, all produced by my hands.

Buttercup wanders in at one o'clock when I'm in the middle of looking over my father's notebook, his twitchy orange tail batting the air as he meanders through the legs of my chair. I put the book down and look at him. He looks back at me expectantly.

"What do you want?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

He answers me with a loud, scratchy meow.

I frown at him and pull my bowl from the table, and set it on the floor. "Ungrateful cat."

Buttercup hisses at me and nudges the bowl away from me, and then begins licking the stew from the bowl.

I spend a half hour watching him, wondering what cat tastes like, and then, before I know it, it's time to go.

Normally, I would be nervous... except this year, I'm not. The Quarter Quell had been the hardest Reaping to bear, except maybe for the 74th, for obvious reasons. I wasn't as good with a bow then as I am now, and I hadn't brought my idea of revenge to fruition, at least, not fully. The twist for that year's Games had been that the tributes would be selected from adults, and District 12 ended up with two elderly people who died in the bloodbath on the first day. Needless to say, the list of victors from District 12 came to another grinding halt.

I sign myself in with the Peacekeeper at the desk, and don't notice as she pricks my finger, drawing my blood. I let her put my finger to the paper next to my name and picture, and watch as the blood smears onto it. She waves me off and I join the crowd.

I get my fair share of stares when I merge into the crowd of girls on the right side of the stage. I haven't dressed up for the Reaping. My long hair is dirty, and probably has some leaves stuck in the braid. There's some rabbit blood on my shirt, and my fingernails are filthy; I look about as respectable as Haymitch. I don't really care. I'll let them think what they want. It's not like it matters.

Peeta makes his way onto the stage. Like me, he's grown in the last few years, too; except, where I've grown from a preteen into a teenager, he's grown from a teenager into an adult. His brows crease in the middle of his forehead, and his hair has faded from the bright blond to a mousier color. It's still bright enough to distinguish him from the people of the Seam, but it's not as luminous as it once was. He's got dark circles underneath his eyes, possibly from stress or lack of sleep, which always seems to get worse around this time of year.

Peeta catches my gaze and promptly looks away. Seeing me in Katniss' hunting jacket can't be pleasant for him.

I find my mother on the sidelines of the crowd, arm-in-arm with the Butcher, looking mildly irritated with me, because I probably look like something that Buttercup dragged in. I make a point of avoiding her gaze. She won't be happy with me for doing what I'm about to do, and despite everything, I don't want to see the look on her face as I volunteer.

As usual, Effie Trinket takes the stage after the Mayor gets the ball rolling. She looks ridiculous, dressed up in a geometric looking, puffy triangle dress in the color of gold. I zone out, focusing on the pattern of her dress, and daydream through most of both of their speeches, and reign in my thoughts when Effie Trinket makes her way to the girls' bowl, taking baby steps in her stupid shoes.

"Let's see who the lucky lady is, hm?" She shrills, her lemon yellow wig wobbling on her head.

There is a tense, sharp intake of breath as she reaches into the bowl. I step through the crowd, and before Effie has the slip open and the first syllable of the name out, I'm in the aisle between the girls and boys.

"I volunteer!" I call. "I volunteer as tribute!"

My voice echoes a little, but it does not wane. I have been waiting years for this moment. I feel like I'm ready, like I could do this. I can do this.

Effie looks at me, incredulous. "O-oh!" She remarks, unsure of what to do. She knows me. She knows that Katniss died in my stead. I hope that fact hurts her deeply. "I do believe we have a volunteer! Come up here, darling."

I am escorted up to the stage by some Peacekeepers, and once I am in sight of Peeta, I catch him staring at me, wide-eyed and mouth set into a flat line. I stare back, switching my gaze to Effie only when I get to the stairs and join her on stage.

She puts her arm around me and smiles at the crowd, trying very hard to be convincing, despite the curve ball I've thrown at her. "I'm sure we all remember you, darling... but why don't you tell everyone your name?"

"Primrose Everdeen." I reply coldly.

Effie takes her hand from around my shoulder and dusts it off once she's removed it from me. "Lovely, lovely. Primrose, I seem to remember your sister volunteering as well, in your stead, wasn't it?" She shoots me a sideways glance and follows it up with a nervous smile. "We all do remember Katniss, don't we?"

I look straight ahead. "Yes."

Effie isn't impressed with my lack of conversation and clears her throat with a ladylike cough. "Ah. Shall we see who will be joining us from the boys?" She motions like she's asking me, and I don't bother to answer. She fights the urge to frown at my indifference, and crosses to the boy's bowl, picking out a name and reading it out.

I don't know who it is. It's someone I've never met before, but he's around my age, and from the Seam. He's got the gray eyes and dark hair, along with the olive skin that I'd envied once upon a time. I didn't bother listening to the name, because he's just one more person in between me and Snow... and I will kill him if I have to.

Effie loops her arm around him once he gets up on stage. There are no volunteers to save him from his fate.

"There we are," she says, satisfied with herself. "District 12's tributes for the 79th annual Hunger Games! Primrose Everdeen and Onyx Woodnote! Aren't they lovely?"

Effie's enthusiasm is met with nothing but silence from the crowd. Her smile falls from her face, but she turns to both Onyx and I, motioning for us to shake hands.

Onyx extends his hand, and I take it, shaking it briefly. I don't really care about being fair to him. I'm on a mission.

He seems to get my point and drops my hand after one solid shake.

The Mayor takes over then, and speaks into the microphone, reading out the treaty of treason, concluding the Reaping. When he's finished, we are escorted into the Justice Building by Peacekeepers, tailed by Effie and Peeta. We will have a few minutes with loved ones, and then we will be herded off to the Capitol.

The last time I was in this building, I said my last goodbye to Katniss. It's almost fitting that I'm going to be saying my last goodbyes here, too.

I am led into one room while Onyx is led into another. I only have to wait a few moments before the door opens and my mother whisks into the room.

"Prim!" She sobs, tears already running down her face. "W-what were you thinking?! Didn't you learn anything from Katniss' death?!"

I ignore her tears and shake my head. "Sorry." I might even really be sorry that I couldn't help but run into the fray. "I have to make things right."

This confuses her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I need to make them pay for her death. She didn't deserve to die." My voice cracks minutely at the mention of Katniss' death. Maybe I'm not as ready as I thought. I pull myself together. "I'm going to do it. I'll do it. I swear."

"No..." my mother mumbles through her tears, "I can't lose you, too."

I shrug and stare past her. "It's too late to get me back now." That came out harsher than I intended.

My mother looks like I've just sunk an arrow into her heart. "Prim.. please... you're my baby."

"It's too late," I repeat. And it really is too late now. I can't go back now.

"I.. Prim..."

My mother's arms reach for me and I let her hug me. Might as well let her get her last moments of closure now, because if I don't die in the arena, as soon as I find a way to assassinate Snow, I'm as good as dead anyway.

She holds me for a few seconds as she weeps into my jacket, and I try not to let it get to me. She's still my mother, but I have to do this. She'll be taken care of by the Butcher, and by Gale, if he notices that she's starting to slip. "I'll fix it. I promise." I say quietly, letting myself be vulnerable for a moment. Soon, the moment is gone, though, because the door is opening again.

"Time's up," a Peacekeeper declares as he approaches us.

I detach myself from my mother and let him take her away. She doesn't thrash or wail, she just cries, backing out of the room. "I love you Prim!" She calls as the door shuts.

"I love you too, mother." I say with a sigh to the back of the door. I know she wishes I hadn't done this; I wish I had my sister back, too. It just goes to show that we all want what we can't have.


	3. Chapter 2

After my mother, there are no other visitors. I sit in silence until it's time to go, and Effie Trinket comes to collect me. So far, I've held back the tears. I don't cry much anymore, but when I do, it's usually because I'm thinking about Katniss.

Onyx joins us, and Peeta rounds out the group at the end. Effie has one arm around Onyx as she leads us to the car, and she's prattling on about the amenities of the train and the luxury we're going to experience. "It's been so long since we've had a volunteer!" She remarks, as we sit down in the stretch car. "Not since Katniss."

The sound of my sister's name gets my attention, and I shoot Effie a glare.

Peeta catches sight of me, and the horrified look on Effie's face at my irritation, and he shakes his head, running a hand through his blond hair. "I think you're going to enjoy yourself, Onyx." He says, trying to smooth out the situation. Effie has crossed a line, but she's too self-absorbed to really figure that much out. Still, she gives Peeta a thankful glance, and continues on with his prompt, telling Onyx how much he's going to enjoy the food and the clothes that the Capitol will provide for us.

Meanwhile, Peeta keeps his eyes trained on me. He looks at me, calculating, as I switch my stare to the scenery outside the window. It isn't long until the train station appears, and we are corralled from the car to the train. It's nice enough; the contents of the first car alone would feed a family in District 12 for years. There's silver platters of food, crystal liquor bottles filled with expensive bronze liquid, and of course, the pièce de résistance, the glimmering chandelier hanging from the ceiling over a long, elegant table.

I pass everything and sit down on a squashy chair, hating how comfortable it is the second my body is enveloped by the soft fabric. Onyx and Effie retire to the back of the car, where she's promised to show him all the food that she's talked about. He's a skinny kid from the Seam, and I'm sure he's eager to eat as much as he can. I'm not that desperate.

When Onyx and Effie are out of earshot, Peeta sits down across from me, looking unassuming, although I know what's coming next.

"Don't." I warn.

Peeta shakes his head. "I don't understand you, Prim." He leans forward in the chair. "Do you think Katniss gave up her life for you so that you would end up here again?"

His words sting me, but I don't let them get to me. "She shouldn't have had to die in the first place."

"You're right."

I'm not expecting for him to say that I'm right. I furrow my brow at him.

"But that's the way the Games work. Only one victor." Peeta reminds me.

"It should have been her." My words are harsh, and so is my tone. Who does he think he is? Chiding me for volunteering when he could have saved her from dying?

"I agree."

Peeta rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't tell you how many times I wished it was me instead of her. But, I was too slow.. I couldn't protect her. Now I have to live with it, knowing her death is partially my fault... but I don't think I can live with knowing that she'd be furious if I let you do this."

"You can't do anything about it. What's done is done." I'm going to finish what Katniss started. I am going to get my revenge.

"Katniss wouldn't want you to do this, Prim."

I roll my eyes. "Save it." I've thought a lot about what Katniss would want me to gleam from her death. In the end, I came to the conclusion that it didn't matter what she wanted for me anymore, because she was dead, and there was no getting her back.

Peeta's face goes from confusion to pain and back again. "Do you remember how you felt when you were reaped the first time?"

I shrug. "No, not really." It's a lie. I remember the horror as clear as day. I remember Katniss stepping in for me once I'd made it past everyone to the aisle... and I remember her words. Those were the same words I used today. "But even if I did, it wouldn't make a difference."

Peeta shakes his head again. "Katniss told me how she wanted to keep you from harm. You were the only person she truly cared about, you know."

"Of course I know that," I snap, growling at Peeta from my seat. It's a good thing I don't have a weapon, because Peeta is getting dangerously close to blowing my temper. "She was my sister. I knew her better than you knew her. I know she'd hate this, and she'd volunteer again for me if she could. But she can't, because she's dead. Partially thanks to you."

Peeta looks hurt. His blue eyes go glossy as he looks away from me. "Prim, I know you're mad-"

"No!" I interject loudly, and bang my fist against the chair's arm, drawing Effie's and Onyx's attention to me. "You don't know anything! So shut up and do your job, and I'll do mine."

I force myself out of the chair and stand up, balling my fists at my sides. "Anyone else have anything to say to me?" I spit, glaring across the compartment to Effie and Onyx. There's silence between all of us, and I straighten myself out. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to retire for the day." I walk through to the other side of the compartment, only now aware that we are moving, probably have been moving for a while. The scenery of District 12 whips by outside the plentiful windows, and I stomp past it, not caring to take a second glance. When I get to the other side of the car, I rip down a tower of sweets stacked on a silver tree, and kick them aside with a grunt. I exit the compartment without another word, and find my quarters in the third car down.

I sit down on the bed after slamming my door shut, and hold my head in my hands. I wasn't expecting that to get so personal so quick. Maybe I am disturbed. Maybe Katniss' death ripped my sanity away from me little by little until there was nothing left, and I haven't had cause to see that fact until now. I know I'm not the girl I once was, but after our father died, Katniss wasn't the same, either. She had to become the hunter, the gatherer, the provider. I had to do all of that and more. I had to kill the animals that I once loved, just so I could survive. I had to get over the death of my sister, and force myself to pretend like I was alright when everyone moved on.

Peeta's right; Katniss wouldn't want this for me. I didn't want her to die, either. I made her promise to try to get back to me, and even though she tried, she failed.

A few tears leak out of my eyes and I rub them away with my dirty fingers. Katniss meant everything to me, and when she died, things unraveled much farther than I thought they ever would. I've changed from the Primrose she knew. She made me better, and without her, I've been reduced to this: a worn out girl, with a taste for vengeance that only blood will satisfy.

I curl up on top of the covers and shove my face into the silk sheet. I'm sure I'm making a mess of it, but I don't care. The Capitol will probably throw out the silks after I'm done with them, anyway. They have the money to do it, after all.

I don't know how long it takes, but I manage to fall asleep. My dreams are usually nightmares, and this one is no different. I wake up in a cold sweat, the haunting image of President Snow slitting Katniss' throat instead of Cato, now ingrained in my mind. It's a nightmare I've had countless times before. Just like always, I sit up and wipe the sweat off my brow, and pull my jacket off. My shirt is soaked all the way through with sweat. My cheeks are flushed, and my throat feels hoarse, like I've been screaming. It's not unlikely.

I pull myself from the bed, and cross into the en-suite bathroom, running the tap and splashing my face with the cool water that gushes out. I open my shirt, and let the water drip down my chin onto my chest as I fan myself with the fabric. My cheeks are still burning hot, and my body is shaking.

I turn the tap off and retreat to the bed again, this time kicking off my boots and pull off my pants as well. I throw the window open and let the cool night air kiss my face, and whip through the hair that's come loose from my braid. As I stare at the night sky, I wonder what the hell I'm going to do to get close enough to Snow to make him pay for giving me these nightmares... and that's when the door of my compartment opens.


	4. Chapter 3

It takes Peeta a few seconds to realize what's going on. When he does, he rips his eyes off me and points them directly at the floor in front of his feet.

"S-sorry," he stammers, "I.. thought I heard screaming."

I look at him incredulously. First, he berates me for volunteering, and now he's barging into my compartment. I can't seem to get away from Peeta. "I'm clearly not screaming, but I will be if you don't get _out_." I don't make an effort to cover myself up. Peeta's no prude; he's probably had his fair share of women by now. I'm not embarrassed of my body. If anything, I'm proud of it.

Peeta reaches for the door again, but lingers a moment, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he waits for me to do something else. What it is he's waiting for, I'm not sure. Maybe he thinks I'm like Katniss and actually want him around. That couldn't be further from the truth. "Prim?" He speaks, eventually, his voice small and quiet.

The gentle tone causes me to frown. "What?" I ask, impatient.

"Do you think we could have a talk?" He wagers a glance at me, and quickly diverts his eyes to the floor again, once his eyes land on my scantily clad legs. "I feel really awful about this afternoon."

I fold my arms over my chest. "You should." I neither agree to or deny his request for a talk. I'm not in the mood to talk, but I know I will only have so long to avoid Peeta before I need to ask for his help. Chances are, he'll be more likely to help me if we're on good terms.

"So, how about it?"

I sigh and roll my eyes, standing and crossing the room to the bathroom, where I throw on a robe. "Fine." I say, and sit back down on the bed.

Peeta looks up at me, grateful, probably both for agreeing to the chat and for putting on some clothing. "I'm sorry I said those things to you earlier. I know you're only doing what you think is right." He apologizes as he sits down beside me on the bed.

I draw my legs up underneath me and shrug. "I'm doing what I have to do. I've got a good chance at winning, anyway."

"You've learned to hunt, yes."

"Not just that," I correct, "other things too."

"Like what?" Peeta asks, raising a brow.

This is making me uncomfortable. Usually, I'd be eager to show off my skills to my mentor, but Peeta is different. He's like a shadow, watching me silently and judging everything I say and do. "Gale taught me how to set traps and make snares."

"And?"

"What do you mean, 'and'?" I snap, suddenly very defensive of my skill set. "That ought to be enough."

"I don't think you understand what you're up against, Prim." Peeta says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Careers and nineteen others." I answer.

"There are other things to consider as well." Peeta reminds me.

"Like the arena itself and the mutts, I know."

"Not just those, either. The Gamemakers themselves are a threat, too." Peeta says quietly, glancing at me sideways.

"I know." I repeat, growing less patient by the minute.

Peeta shifts awkwardly on the bed until he's sitting facing me. "I've been inside, Prim. It's not what you think it is. I promise you that. It's much, much worse. You can shoot all the tributes you see, but that won't stop the Gamemakers from sending an earthquake your way, or conjuring up some mutts to tear you down." He shakes his head slowly. "They want a good show, and if you don't give it to them, they're going to reprimand you for it."

He's not lying. I saw what happened to Katniss when she tried to get away from the other tributes. They sent a firestorm after her that turned her around and injured her, almost killing her. "So?"

Peeta lets out a sigh. I'm not willing to see things his way, and it's starting to get to him. "So, all I want to do is help, Prim. You're making it very hard."

I shrug, avoiding his gaze. "Do you think the Careers are any easier to coach?"

My question trips Peeta up. He pauses for a moment to consider it. "No." He concludes eventually. "But I doubt that the Careers and their mentors have history like we do."

"We don't have history. You had history with Katniss. So did I. We have... mutual history with someone who linked us together. The only reason I see you now is to bring you squirrels." I object.

"That's more than what the Careers have with their mentors."

"So?"

"So.. it should make a difference. I'm trying to help, Prim. Why do you think I buy squirrels from you?" Peeta asks patiently.

I give a shrug of my shoulders. "I don't really care why you buy them. Money is money."

"I buy them from you because that's the only way I get to see you. You spend all of your time hunting, or ditching school to hunt. Every time I stop by, you send me away with that glare. The only way I get to see you is by buying game from you, and even then, it's not much." Peeta admits, somewhat hesitant.

This strikes a chord within me. Why would Peeta go through so much trouble to see me? I don't understand. If I'm so distant, why doesn't he just leave me alone like everyone else has? "Why do you bother?" I ask, my tone softening minutely.

Peeta lets out a disgruntled sigh. I can't tell if he's irritated with me or himself. "Because, Prim.. because Katniss cared for you, and now I feel like, because of what happened in the arena, I have to take care of you. It makes it hard to do when you won't let me. You refuse charity, and you refuse to talk to anyone but Gale."

The mention of Katniss has formed a lump in my throat. Katniss was my caregiver when my mother had failed us. She was our breadwinner, our hunter, and our gatherer. She alone was the only person who'd ever helped me... but that doesn't mean that because she's dead, Peeta can step in and take over. I won't let him. It's too late now anyway. "You don't need to take care of me. I'm doing alright on my own."

"You made it to seventeen." He corrects, and rubs his nose again. "Now that you've volunteered, you might not make it to eighteen."

"You don't think I'll be able to win." It isn't a question.

"It's not that, Prim. Everyone going in there wants to win. If you keep going on the way you're going now, without the help of others... you might not make it very far."

"You want me to let you help me."

"Yes."

"What did Haymitch do to help you?" I might not know much about how the dynamic worked between Peeta and Haymitch, but judging by Haymitch's usual state, I'm almost certain that Haymitch wasn't of much help to either Peeta or Katniss.

Peeta stares at me for a moment. The memory of Haymitch must be unpleasant, because a vulnerable look shoots across his face. "He helped me more than I could ever say." He speaks, his voice quiet, and a shade too dark and depressing.

I frown hard and look out the window. It doesn't sound like he's going to elaborate. I don't understand how much an old drunk could help in the Games. "Well, you haven't done anything to tell me how to win so far. You've just reprimanded me for volunteering." I remind him.

The look on Peeta's face steels again, staring out from beneath his blond lashes with resolve. "Haymitch taught me more than just how to win. He taught Katniss and I to work as a team, and to play off each others strengths and weaknesses."

I snort. "Look where that got Katniss."

I can tell from the way Peeta recoils that I've hurt his feelings. He stays silent for a long minute. Neither of us want to talk, it seems.

After a long while, Peeta speaks up. "I'm just trying to help, Prim... I can't go back and change what happened to Katniss, or I would. And not because I loved her. Because I don't like what you've become without her." He stands from his spot on my bed, and moves toward the door. "But I can't do that... so I'm doing my best with the hand I've been dealt." His voice is broken, and somewhat empty. He lingers by the door, about to say something else, when he turns away, opens the door, and exits my room, closing the door softly behind him.

For a while, I sit on my bed, staring at the back of the door, thinking about Peeta's words. He doesn't like what I've become without Katniss there to shield me from the world. Neither do I. I would give anything to have my sister back and go back to being normal again. I can't, though, just like I can't help the rage that builds in me when I see President Snow. It's been five long years since I saw my sister's face, and I know it's his fault. It's Snow's fault that she won't walk back through the door of our little house again. It's his fault that she'll never smile at me again, and tell me everything's going to be okay. It's not okay. It never has been okay. I am going to stop this from ever happening again. I'll make it so that no one ever has to be reaped again. I _will_ kill President Snow, if it's the last thing I do.

I curl up on my bed and listen to the wind whipping through the window, concentrating on nothing but the stars dotting the sky outside. It takes me a while, but eventually, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to remember the night's events. Judging by the sun pouring in through the window in my bedroom, it's about noon. Either Peeta has talked Effie out of rousing me earlier than need be, or I've scared her enough to do it myself. I don't particularly care which it is. All I know is that I'm glad they haven't bothered with me.

I get out of bed and commit to the same clothes as yesterday. They've aired out, and although they're dirty, I'm still going to wear them. I don't want to put on anything that's provided for me. Not consciously, anyway. I wore the robe for Peeta's sake, but that's about as far as I'll go.

When I'm finished dressing, I make my way back out into the main car of the train. It's busy; all three of my other companions are there. Onyx is sitting with Effie and Peeta, dotted around the table, eating lunch, presumably.

When I make my presence known, their talking stops, and all three of them turn their eyes to me. Effie is the first one to speak, eager to criticize my wardrobe choice. "Primrose Everdeen!" She shrills, her eyes as wide as saucers as she sees my dirty appearance. "Heavens! I never thought I'd see the day where one of my tributes arrived in the Capitol looking like she just climbed out of a mine!"

I shrug. "So what. District 12 is full of coal dust."

"Prim-" Peeta starts, and I shoot him a glare that has him shutting up.

"Well, it's true. They're going to be able to do whatever they want to me in a few hours, anyway." I point out, and sit down beside Onyx, across from Peeta.

Effie stares at me for a while, muttering a string of words under her breath.

Onyx pulls his chair a ways away from me. I must really smell. It doesn't matter what he thinks. In the arena, I won't be able to shower, anyway. I don't know what he's fussing about. Maybe he's spent too much time with Effie.

I reach for some bread and stuff it into my mouth. It's not the delicate sort that Peeta bakes from time-to-time. Instead, I opt for the harder stuff that we make out of the grain we get from our Tesserae. The Capitol has been kind enough to stock our table with a variety of things, so that we might feel at home on the train to the slaughterhouse. I find the irony of it almost overwhelming.

I don't reach for anything that I haven't seen before. My pride won't let me. I won't touch anything that President Snow has decided to lavish me with. Instead, it's back to basics. I eat only what I could get at home. Hard bread, a wedge of cheese, and some overripe strawberries.

Effie watches me with bated breath as I stuff food into my mouth. I deliberately eat like a slob, making sure to dribble strawberry juice on to my shirt.

I can tell she wants to say something, but bites her tongue after a silent exchange between her and Peeta. Maybe he's told her about our conversation last night. Oddly enough, I don't think he has, but it's still a possibility.

For a while, I continue to eat, and stop only when I notice that we are entering a tunnel.

Effie stands up from her spot and looks out the window. "Oh... we're almost there." She says like she's fawning over a baby. "It's just beautiful."

Onyx rises with her, and glues himself to the window. For the first time, I hear his voice clearly. "Whoa." He exclaims as the tunnel ends and the Capitol comes into view. He sounds a lot older than he looks. His voice is scratchy, almost hoarse. It's deep and full, and very distinctive.

I stand, too, and look out the window.

The Capitol sprawls out before us, a mosaic of a thousand colors from the deepest greens to the lightest pinks. It sparkles in the midday sun, glaringly bright. There are buildings of every shape and size, and they all fit together perfectly, giving the illusion of one large cluster, all surrounded by effervescent aquamarine water.

I try not to be impressed by it, but it's hard to avoid. I've never seen so much finery in all my life. District 12 is sad in comparison, and though it's aesthetically pleasing, I'd still rather be in District 12, stoking my tiny fire and bickering with Buttercup. I have to be here, though... and there's no going back now.

The train comes to a stop when we go through another tunnel that comes out in a garish, spotlessly white train station. It's packed full of people, and they are shouting our names. I can hear my name being chanted even from inside the train; Onyx's is less pronounced, but there are still people cheering for him. Over the shouts of "Prim!" and "District 12!", Peeta speaks. He's standing by the door now, waiting to open it for us to get out.

"Come on," he says, waving Onyx and myself forward, "it's time to go."


	5. Chapter 4

As soon as we step out into the train station, we are met with even more cheering. The citizens of the Capitol are going wild; they are chanting my name, louder and louder, and pairing it with screams for District 12. They have not forgotten their Katniss and her death, or Peeta's presence in the arena.

I keep my head up, and my back straight. I want them to see me. All of me. I want them to see the stony look on my face and the scowl behind my eyes. I want them to see it, and spread the word, so that President Snow will hear about it. I want President Snow to get ideas about me, and what I mean to do.

It's reckless, but I don't care. Chances are, I'm going to die as soon as I get an arrow into President Snow. But I will get there. I will see that arrow in his eye. Then I will die in peace.

Peeta and Effie escort us into another car, and once we are all settled in, Effie takes to prattling on about the Capitol and its amenities, and what will happen next. I don't particularly care what happens next. I know the basic agenda. We will be remade, then dressed up for the parade. The training days will come next, closely followed by the interviews. After that, the one-on-one with the Gamemakers and the tributes will commence, and then our scores will be revealed. The Games will start, after that. From there, it's all inconsequential. After the Games begin, I will be working on my own agenda.

I tune Effie out, or at least, do my best. Her voice is as squeaky as it is ridiculous, and is proving more and more of a pain to try and ignore. I'm starting to think that Effie can get to anyone, just by talking to them.

Peeta, however, is bent on staring me down. I doubt he thinks my appearance in the train station and in the car are that of someone who's trying to save herself. Let him think what he wants; I don't care if Peeta approves of my methods. I've taken a page out of Gale's book. It's just easier this way.

There are no words exchanged between Peeta and I until the car comes to a smooth stop outside a large, gleaming building nestled in the heart of the Capitol. Effie and Onyx make their way out first, and I am quick to follow, although Peeta catches my arm as I move to clamber out of the vehicle.

"Prim." Peeta begins.

I turn on him, and yank my arm out of his hand. "What is it now?"

"I just wanted to say.." Peeta begins, looking conflicted, "Cinna was good to Katniss. Please try to respect him and his team."

"Thanks," I retort sarcastically, "I'll be sure to do that."

Peeta grimaces, although he lets me go, and I manage to get out of the car before Effie assaults me.

"Remember, beauty is pain!" she shrills, looking me over, her previous smile disappearing from her face. "Cinna has his plate full enough, having to remake you. Don't make his job any harder than it has to be by complaining!"

I give her a laborious roll of my eyes and walk into the building. I can't deal with either of my companions, anymore. Even Onyx is starting to get on my nerves, and he hasn't done anything to merit it. Effie and Peeta are doing that all on their own, and Onyx's going along with their words has ticked me off. Better get it over and done with now so I can be rid of all of them as soon as possible.

When I walk into the building, I am greeted by a girl with pretty lavender hair, cut in an asymmetrical bob. She greets me politely, despite the horrible look on my face, and brings me down a few corridors, being pleasantly silent on the way.

When we reach a room far down the main hall, she opens the door, and escorts me inside. She leaves, then, and I am received by my prep team.

Judging by the way they spring into action and coo over me, they have noticed my looks, and know who I am. I am Katniss' sister, the second volunteer from District 12, and the last of the Everdeens.

A woman named Venia is the first to reach me. "Goodness!" She exclaims. "I'd have thought by the way Katniss talked about her, she'd have taken better care of herself. Just look at this!" She points to my face.

I furrow my brows at her. "Excuse me?"

"She didn't mean anything by it, darling," the second woman chatters, approaching me, too, "it's just that.. we... well, Katniss mentioned you from time to time, and from what she said about you... we thought you'd be the opposite of her!"

I fight the urge to bolt out of the room, but it's likely that it's been locked from the outside by now. "Thanks." I say. So what if I am like Katniss? That would be a good thing. She was everything I couldn't be. I choose to see it as a compliment.

"Look at her hair," the male assistant scoffs, picking up my braid and letting it fall back down over my back, "it's a complete mess. I'm going to have to work overtime to get the tangles- what is that?!" Flavius exclaims, ripping a twig out of my braid. He looks queasy as he inspects it like he's never seen anything like it before.

"It's a twig," I say, and take it from his fingers. "I knew you guys were inside people, but not to know what a twig is.. that's pretty bad."

Flavius looks offended, but he perseveres, and takes the elastic from my hair, undoing my braid while Venia and Octavia usher me toward a table, stripping me of my jacket.

Octavia hands me a dressing gown and I screw up my face at it. "What the hell is that for?" I demand. It looks like something that the people in hospitals wear.

"How do you expect us to rid you of all that unsightly body hair and get to polishing you up for Cinna if we can't get at your body?" Octavia retorts, still chipper.

"You've got to be kidding me," I protest, although she's already stooping down to tug off my boots. "Hey! Alright, I'll do it." I interject, and she rights herself, looking more than a little pleased.

It's silly, but in front of these people, I almost feel ashamed of my body. In front of Peeta, I had no problems showing it off. These Capitol freaks are so weird that I almost feel like a different species, though. Maybe I am. For all I know, the Capitol is full of animal-human hybrids. Mutts, the lot of them. That would make a lot of sense.

Regardless, I strip my clothes, and part with my beloved boots, only after making Venia promise to give them back to me once I win the Games. She seems hesitant to agree, suspicious of my declaration, although she does anyway.

I put the robe on and take my place on a cold table, waiting for the process to begin.

First, my body is examined, to determine what needs to be done. My team agrees that I will need 'the works' done before I meet Cinna. They also agree that it will take longer than originally predicted.

After that, my dressing gown is removed, and I am naked in front of them. None of them remark on anything, though, and I am grateful. They scrub me down and remove the grime of District 12 from my skin. I am exfoliated until I am a violent shade of pink, and then I am dried off. Now, the real work begins.

When the first strip of wax is ripped from my legs, it startles me, and admittedly, stings. I don't have time to complain, because as soon as the first strip is ripped off, I can feel the warm wax going on again, and within seconds, it's ripped off too. Meanwhile, Flavius is working on washing my hair, and Octavia is digging dirt out from underneath my nails.

Effie wasn't lying when she said beauty was pain. I don't open my mouth once, though, and keep my jaw locked, and a scowl fixed on my face. I won't give any of them the satisfaction of knowing they are hurting me. I'm not going to let the Capitol have more of my pain.

Three hours go by, and by the end of it, all hair below my neck has been waxed off, leaving me baby smooth. I smell like flowers, already having been rubbed down with lotions and perfumes, and my hair has been washed, untangled, and braided back into Katniss' usual style, a single thick braid down my back.

I've been given my gown back to await Cinna's arrival. My team has made their way out of my prep room, and left me alone, sitting on the table, awaiting my stylist.

I don't have to wait long; the door opens quietly, about five minutes after my team leaves the room. Cinna walks in, and at once, I am underwhelmed. It's not a bad thing. I was just expecting something a bit more fantastical, as a stylist. In general, they are the pinnacle of Capitol fashion, although Cinna looks very... tasteful.

He holds his hand out to me and offers me a smile. "Hello, Prim. I'm Cinna, your key stylist."

I take his warm hand in mine and give it a solid shake. "Hello."

He looks me over for a second before he sits down on a chair opposite me. "I'm very sorry about what happened to Katniss. I had the privilege of working with her, however brief." He looks like he's telling the truth, although I'm skeptical. I find it hard to believe that anyone in the Capitol regards Katniss' death as a loss, except for in the betting pools. To them, she was just another tribute. A tribute in love with her partner, but a tribute all the same.

"Thanks." I offer, my tone dubious.

"I like to think that I had a good friendship with Katniss, if you could call it that. She loved you a lot, you know."

"I know." I don't know why everyone is trying to remind me that my sister loved me very much. I loved her, too. No one really understands how much.

Cinna gives me another small smile and takes something out of his pocket, which he presses into my palm. "This was hers. A token of her district. I think she'd want you to have it."

I feel the mass press into my palm, and I look down at it, my eyebrows pulling together as I look at it. I saw it on screen; the Mockingjay pin. I don't know where she got it. I remember thinking it was beautiful, when I first saw it on Katniss' jacket in the arena. I turn the thing over between my fingers, and look closely at it. Why Cinna is giving it to me, I have no idea. Truth be told, it's confusing me.

"I don't understand. Why are you giving this to me?"

"I thought it was appropriate that you should have it. You were what your sister was fighting for. Now you're doing the same. It's very brave." Cinna says smoothly.

I feel my mouth go dry. "What do you mean, I'm 'doing the same'?" There's no way Cinna could know my intentions. All he knows is that I've volunteered for the Games.

"You're finishing what Katniss started, aren't you?" Cinna replies, keeping his face unchanged. "Providing for your family?"

I feel the knot in my stomach loosen. "I.. yeah." I agree, a little relieved that he hasn't come to the real conclusion as to why I volunteered. "It's hard without Katniss. If I could win... I'd be... able to have what I want and need."

"Peace of mind, knowing you won't have to struggle anymore?" Cinna ventures.

"Something like that."

"Well, I still think it's very brave of you, and you should know that I'll help you as much as I can along the way. I won't be with you for long, but I hope we can be friends, too." Cinna suggests, giving me a calm smile.

For the first time, I let a small smile cross over my lips and pull at the corners of my mouth. "Sure." I decide at once, that I am fond of Cinna, if no one else.


	6. Chapter 5

I sit idle while Cinna flits about me, working his fingers through my hair. He applies a little makeup to my face, although he keeps his hand light. He asks me to close my eyes or rub my lips together every once and a while. Other than to ask me to do these things, we sit in comfortable silence. Cinna knows I don't want to talk, and there isn't any reason to.

It isn't until Cinna stands me up and helps me into my costume in front of the mirror, that I get a good look at myself.

"Do you like it?" Cinna asks, and smooths his hand over my bare arm, looking at me through my reflection.

The girl staring back at me from the mirror looks like someone I knew a long time ago. I look like the girl I could have turned out to be. Beautiful, pristine... virtuous. I am none of those things. Not anymore. I haven't been the girl for a long time.

But there she is, staring back at me. Her long, shining blonde hair is draped over her shoulder in a single, thick braid, adorned with sparkling jewels. Diamonds, it looks like.

Her skin is pale and flawless, her ugly scars hidden by clever drapes in fabric or dotted with diamonds that stick to her flesh.

Her body is covered in a floating silver dress that looks like it's made out of crushed gems, and glimmers in the light. It's flattering, but not overtly sexy. It fits her perfectly. No one can deny that she isn't gorgeous.

It takes me a moment to realize that the girl in the mirror is mimicking my actions, and that the girl is in fact me. I've never worn anything this beautiful before, and the Prim I once was would have died if she would have been able to wear something so fine. All I can think now is that, although it is a wonderful garment, that the money spent on making it could have fed the entirety of District 12 for months.

"It's lovely," I reply, after a long while.

Cinna puts a hand on the small of my back, and looks sadly at me. "I know." He isn't talking about the dress, or the makeup.

I turn toward Cinna and sigh lightly. I can't shake the feeling that this has taken a turn for the worst.

He takes my hands in his and unfurls my right one to reveal the Mockingjay pin. I hadn't even realized that I'd been clutching it, but the imprint it's left in my hand is undeniable. It almost looks like I've been holding on to it for so long that it's been burned into my palm.

Cinna takes the pin and fixes it to my dress, just below a wisp of fabric. "There. Now you're ready."

"Am I?" I ask, with yet another sigh. "I'm starting to think I'm not prepared for any of this."

"No one ever is." Cinna admits, and guides me over to the table to sit down. He slips my feet into a pair of flat, sensible shoes, embellished with diamonds. "You're going to do fine, Prim. You're just like your sister. She was brave, too. Everything is going to be okay."

Cinna's words are kind. I wish I could believe them. Right now, I'm feeling vulnerable, and that hasn't happened in a long time. I've been so wrapped up in my own agenda that I barely stopped to consider what would happen if I didn't win the Games. It's entirely likely that I am going inside unprepared, just like Peeta said. Maybe I've never been inside the arena, and I haven't been training my entire life, and become motivated by fame and glory, like the Careers... but I thought I had at least a small chance at winning. Now I'm not so sure. With each thought comes another memory of Katniss, and I don't have the heart to shove them away anymore.

I let the memory of my sister wash over me, making it difficult for me to breathe. I feel a dull ache in my chest, situated where my heart is. Katniss would have known exactly what to say to put me back on track. She'd pick me up, dust me off, tuck in my duck tail, and give me a kiss on the cheek, and send me on my way.

The ache in my chest intensifies as I remember how it felt to be loved. Truly loved. Katniss adored me... and not in the same, one-sided way that the Capitol citizens adore me. Hers was heartfelt, and steadfast.

I take a deep breath and let it out, aware that I am shaking slightly now.

Cinna loops his arm around me delicately and gives me a nudge. "It's time to go, Prim." He reminds me, his voice soft, and full of regret.

"Alright." I manage, and do my best to cull my nerves. Now is not the time for me to lose my grip on the situation. I will have plenty of time to reflect on my choices tonight when I am alone. Now, I need to go out there and show the Capitol that I will not be defeated.

I don't know where I would have been without Cinna's words, and the pin. Knowing I am wearing something that belonged to my sister is helpful. I probably would have started crying, if he hadn't told me that I needed to go, too.

I surrender Cinna a thankful smile as I take one more breath and let it hiss out between my clenched teeth.

Cinna returns my smile and takes my hand, and helps me from the table. "Remember, hold your head high."

Cinna escorts me back to Effie and Peeta, and Onyx and his stylist. They are waiting for us, and when we meet them, I notice we are going directly to the stadium where the parade is being held.

More than once, I catch Onyx staring at me. I shouldn't care that I'm getting so much attention already, but his eyes are roving over my body, trying to figure out if it's really me underneath this dress and makeup. I shoot glares at him until he gets the point, and I direct my eyes forward. I hate being enclosed with him, somehow. I barely know him and I'm already irritated to no end by this boy. Maybe it's because I think he won't live past the first day in the arena, and he doesn't seem to care. He is not guarded, not like me. He is not even smart about it. He's offering his love blindly to the Capitol and all its creations, especially the vision of me in their clothing.

We ride the elevator down until it opens, and a wall of fresh air hits me in the face. I stall for a moment; I hadn't been expecting to smell something like this in the Capitol, let alone in their precious stadium. Slowly, I notice the horses and connect the scents. The hay from the horse stalls and the scent of the horses themselves have given this room a pungent odor. It smells like a barn. Musty, dank and overpowering. I decide I don't mind it. This is as close as I will come to nature for a few days. At least, until I get to the arena.

Effie parades us around, making a show of her crop this year. I get a few glares from the Tributes, mostly from those who I assume to be Careers. I follow Cinna's advice and keep my head held high. I don't think that any of them suspect much of me; I will have to show off my talent in training.

There are two particularly worrisome Tributes this year. They stand strong, already having bonded together. Two males, from Districts 1 and 2, judging by their costumes. One is a sandy-haired, sharp faced boy, about seventeen or eighteen, with rippling muscles and a bulky physique. The other has black hair that falls into his eyes, and a smaller frame than the other, although not by much. He pushes his hair out of his eyes as he watches me walk to my chariot, elbowing the sandy-haired boy from 1.

I take my eyes off them, choosing to ignore the women that flank them, for now.

The chariot is backed out of its stall, and is being hooked up to two white horses by Avoxes. I watch, disgusted, as the Avoxes work on the chariot. I read in my school book that Avoxes were traitors to the Capitol, turned mutilated servants. The thought of it makes my stomach churn and my blood boil. Not only were they apprehended, but their tongues cut out and their selves forced into working for those who did it to them.

I distract myself by looking at Peeta. His eyes are trained on the Tributes from 1 and 2; undoubtedly, he is getting his first good look at them, too.

I walk over to him and sidle up beside him, and fold my arms over my chest. "What's your verdict?" I ask quietly, looking off into the distance, as to not be suspicious.

Peeta sighs deeply. "Not good."

"Why's that?"

"They're all staring daggers at you."

I laugh coldly. "What else is new?"

Peeta shakes his head and slips his hands into his pockets. "I'd start making some friends, if I were you. Try starting with the girls. Alliances can count for a lot."

"Is that how you won?"

"Sort of." Peeta admits, his tone devoid of emotion.

"I get along better with boys," I contest, "girls seem to hate me."

A beat of silence passes, and a flicker of a smile tugs at the corners of Peeta's lips. "You're more like Katniss than I thought."

"What?"

"Your sister didn't get along with girls, either."

"She got along with girls just fine." I argue, sorely tempted to tell him that she got along with him, which was about as close to a girl as you could get, anyway.

"She spent most of her time with Gale, or me." Peeta says.

"She was friends with Madge.. and Rue."

Rue's name seems to have triggered a reaction in Peeta, and the smile he was sporting slips quickly from his face, and he looks off into the distance, avoiding having to look at the other Tributes any longer. "I'm sure you have female friends, too, Prim."

I shake my head, but I don't press the subject. "I'll figure something out." I still think that I would have a chance at going it alone.

I peer over at the duo from 1 and 2 again, and find their gazes attached to me. They are talking to one another, completely ignoring their female counterparts as their gazes pick me apart piece by piece.

Thankfully, an automated voice blares out over loudspeaker and interrupts the conversations at hand. The hum of voices hush down as it announces that the Chariot from 1 is to depart in thirty seconds. A flurry of action is set into motion, and the Tributes start branching off, and assigning themselves to their chariots, arguing over which side to stand on.

"Stand on the right," Peeta says quietly, catching my gaze before turning it to Onyx. "The wealthier sponsors sit on the right."

I stare after Peeta as he makes himself sparse, detaching himself from me and going back to where Effie, Cinna and Onyx's stylist are. Onyx is making his way to the chariot, glancing back over his shoulder, possibly trying to locate me.

I walk forward and sidle up beside him, opting to take the right side on a whim. Peeta wouldn't have told me that if he didn't at least have a little bit of faith in me.

"Hey." Onyx says as I approach. He clambers into the chariot awkwardly, and takes his spot on the left.

I hear the doors open, and I am immediately assaulted by loud cheering and fanfare. I don't let it phase me, even if it has got my stomach in knots.

"You look nice," Onyx mentions, raising his voice so I can hear it over the echoing cheers.

"Thanks," I reply, busying myself with getting into the chariot.

That's the end of our conversation, because without warning, the chariot lurches forward, and takes up a steady pace to the doors. The other chariots begin emerging from the doors, and within a few seconds, they are all embarked on their journey.

The crowd is roaring with cheers by the time that our chariot eases between the doors and jerks into motion, the horses taking up a steady, yet slow trot.

I am deafened by the sound and blinded by the bright, colorful lights when the cameras catch sight of us. Throughout the crowd, I hear screams for my name. It's like the train station, but multiplied by a thousand. There are so many people here, packed into the seats, absolutely shrieking for us. They want to see more; they throw roses and tokens. The ground is littered with the flowers already, but our chariot seems to take the cake. A thousand flowers are in the air at any given time, raining down on us.

At first, I am so stunned, I have no idea what to do. I am scared, fascinated, angry and bemused all at once.

Remembering Cinna's words, I stand up straighter and hold my head up high, keeping my face stony. I catch sight of myself on panels all over the stadium, looking determined and headstrong. That will do well enough. At least I'm not showing anything but that.

I hold onto the railing of the chariot with an iron grip, and stare into the crowd on my right. Onyx lavishes his attention to everyone, even if I am getting most of the screen time.

The crowd only dies down when we approach the podium where President Snow is set to make his speech.

Even when the President stands to make his speech, we are being shown on the screens between glances of Snow. He starts his speech, introducing himself and congratulating us all in being selected as Tributes.

My palm itches for my bow. For the first time, I am up close and personal with him, at least as personal as I can be with him towering over me.

I could take him out so easily from here. I have a direct line of sight. From this vantage point, I could have killed him ten times already.

He drabbles on about how honored we should be to have been reaped. President Snow talks for about five minutes before he concludes his speech by wishing us a happy Hunger Games, and departing with 'May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor'. His speech should have warmed the cockles of my heart, like it did the others, I'm sure, but all it did was set me into a rage. Every feeling I had except for anger toward him, toward the Capitol, and their sadistic Games, is now gone. The notion of my fear and instability seems ludicrous now. I don't know why I was ever scared of this.. of them. They want their show, Peeta says. I am definitely going to give them something worth watching.

The chariots lurch into motion again, and pull around the other side of the podium, destined for the stables once more.

I am fuming by the time our chariot gets inside and the doors slam closed behind us.

Onyx looks at me dubiously; he's noticed that I am gripping onto the chariot with both of my hands now, so hard that my knuckles have turned white. "Are you okay?" He asks.

"No." I reply coldly, and take my hands from the chariot, making my way down from it.

Peeta, Effie, Cinna, and Onyx's stylist - Portia - greet us at the bay where our horses have let us off.

"You looked stunning!" Effie cheers with a big smile on her painted lips. "Positively marvelous."

"Both of you did well." Peeta confirms. "I'd be surprised if the sponsors aren't lining up for you." He looks at me pointedly.

"Cinna, Portia, you really outdid yourselves again. They shone beautifully. Like diamonds!" Effie gushes.

Cinna cracks a small smile. "Thank you. We didn't want to.. follow in the previous years' footsteps."

From the corner of my eye, I see both of the Tributes from before staring at me again. I stare back at them, thinking that I will have to kill both of them if I want to get at Snow. Peeta has suggested making an alliance, but there is no flicker of anything but hatred in their eyes when they look at me. They want to see me dead. I know the look, because that's how I look at President Snow.

Peeta follows my gaze and frowns when he connects things. "Come on. We should get going. It's going to be a long day tomorrow and I'm sure both of you are in dire need of sleep." He puts his hand on the small of my back and gently ushers me to turn, and break away from the menacing Careers.

I let him guide me around, only because I don't know my way, and because if I stayed here any longer, I'd probably have tempted fate by approaching the Careers and daring them to come after me.

Effie is still prattling on about the parade and how proud she was to see us up on the screen looking like stars, and doesn't seem to notice the real reason we are leaving the stables. Cinna is quick to connect the dots, and Portia, too, although they have the good grace not to say anything, except to prompt Effie to keep talking every now and again. Whether Onyx noticed or not, I'm not entirely sure. I decide that I don't care. I'm not going to be his babysitter, and I'm not going to be his ally, either.

We ride the elevator back up to our suite, and I head straight for the first hallway I see.

Effie stops me as I walk past her. "Primrose? Aren't you hungry? We've got dinner planned, still!"

I check over my shoulder. Onyx, Portia, Cinna, and Peeta are all lingering around the table.

"No." I reply coolly, and shake her hand from my shoulder. "I'm going to bed."

"But it's so _early_!" Effie gawks, and looks like I've just kicked a puppy.

"I don't care."

Effie blanches, but doesn't argue it any longer. She lets me go, and I walk down the hall until I find a room that looks like it's suitable for a Tribute.

I close the door behind me and press my back against it, and sigh out. I am in over my head, but I'm not drowning yet.


End file.
